I'll Be Your Detonator
by Scribbler95
Summary: As winter closes in on Baker Street so does the mysterious Moriarty. Sherlock, John and Demitria race against the clock to solve the riddles, but in the end who has the upper hand in this twisted game? SH/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Just before the story commences, a great big amazing thank you to my editor Sophie who patiently wades through my chapters, takes notes on episodes and listens to me ramble about plots on Christmas morning. **

Demi sat beside Sherlock, watching the television while he complained about how unrealistic it was.

"Honestly! She can't have murdered him, she's three inches too short."

"Sherlock shut up and check your blog or something, I happen to like this show."

Her eyes didn't move from the screen but she could practically see him roll his eyes and huff as he picked up John's laptop. Upon hearing his muttering she turned her eyes to the laptop screen.

_Barry Berwick – I need ur help. Been arrested for murder in Belarus. People reckon u get people off. Family got money. They'll pay anything._

"Absolutely terrible spelling..."

She laughed and smiled.

"I've never been to Belarus..." She noted. "I hear it's absolutely freezing."

"Well do you want to come?"

Her head snapped up.

"Huh?"

He was eyeing a file on exactly why 'Barry' was arrested.

"Violent tendencies towards women...only one way to find out. Pack a thick coat."

He stood and began to walk away.

"I didn't even say I'd go!"

"Oh you will. Remember some gloves."

xxxxxxxxx

So there they were, sat on thick coats, breathing clouds of fog. The man opposite them kept leering at Demi.

"So, tell me exactly what happened." Said Sherlock boredly.

"Well we was at this bar-"

"Were." Said Demi, looking at her nails.

"Huh?"

"You _were_ in a bar. Anyway, please continue."

He scowled.

"An' I was chatting up some of the waitresses and Karen weren't happy about that-"

"Wasn't happy." She noted. The man's fists clenched but he continued.

"And we went back to the hotel and ended up having a bit of a ding dong don't we? She kept saying I weren't a real man-"

She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"_Wasn't_ a real man...and suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And my old man was a butcher, he learned us how to cut up a beast-"

"Taught you, not learned." She yawned for extra effect.

"And then I done it-"

"Did it."

"I DID IT! STABBED HER OVER AND OVER AGAIN! JUST LIKE I WILL YOU, YOU STUPID LITTLE COW!"

He went to punch her but his fist was suddenly held inside Sherlock's. Sherlock himself stood, taking Demi's arm as he did.

"I think we're done here."

"Please Mr. Holmes! I'll get hung for this!"

"No you won't," Said Sherlock, smiling slightly, "Hanged, yes."

And they left.

xxxxxxxx

The next day Sherlock was bored again. He sat sulking in his blue silk dressing gown, firing a gun at the wall. Demi watched absent mindedly over the top of her book as he shot blindly, each bullet landing along the yellow lines of the smiley face he had painted on the wall. She heard the door open and John marched in, shopping in hand.

"What the HELL are you doing?" He demanded.

"Bored."

"What?" Asked John.

"Bored! BORED! BORED! BORED!" He shot at the wall to punctuate every 'bored'. Demi rolled her eyes.

"Yes Sherlock we get it, you're bored." Sighed Demi as John walked towards the fridge.

"We got anything in? I'm starving!"

"John..." She warned as he opened the fridge door, slamming it closed and leaning against it.

"There's a head in the fridge...a bloody head!"

"Just tea for me thanks." Said Sherlock. Demi kicked him and he glared at her.

"He's measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." Said Demi, turning a page as Sherlock flopped down onto the sofa. "We read your blog by the way. A Study In Pink. Nice."

"Did you...did you like it?"

Demi nodded and Sherlock sat up.

"Hmm, let me think...no."

"Why not?" John bristled, "I thought you'd be flattered."

"'Sherlock sees through everyone and everything. What amazes me though is how spectacularly ignorant he can be about some things'." Quoted Sherlock sarcastically.

"No I didn't mean..." John began. Demi was watching them curiously.

"Oh you meant spectacularly ignorant in a _nice _way. Just because I don't care about who's sleeping with who or who's prime minister..."

"Or whether the Earth goes round the Sun or not." Added John. Demi snorted and smirked as they argued about the importance of astronomy. After a particularly biting comment about John's blog from Sherlock, John stormed from the flat. Demi threw her novel at Sherlock's head and it missed by mere inches.

"Sherlock that wasn't nice."

He remained facing the other way. Demi spotted her aunt walking up the stairs.

"Have you had a little domestic?"

"They were arguing aunty Jean, not me."

Mrs Hudson chuckled before seeing the bullet holes.

"Who did that to my bloody wall?"

Demi pointed her finger at Sherlock who stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes as her aunt continued.

"That's going on your rent young man!"

Sherlock glared at Demi as she laughed again, throwing him a smug glance before standing up and stretching.

"Well I'm off to bed. Shoot that gun while I'm trying to sleep and I will rip out your spleen and show it to you. Good night Sherlock."

She climbed the stairs sleepily, pulling on a pair of _very revealing_ silk pyjamas (a gift from when she had stayed with her friend Katrina who had insisted that she have them) before sliding in to bed.

xxxxxxx

The next morning Demi awoke to the familiar sounds of Sherlock pacing around the the living room. She stood, walking over to open her curtains. Suddenly her world seemed to be on fire, shards of glass cut her face and her hands as she shielded her eyes. The force of the explosion threw her backwards onto the floor as pain tore through her senses.

"SHIT!"

Sherlock ran in, looking around.

"Demitria? Demitria!"

He knelt beside her as she looked up at him, blood on her face and her arms. Tears mixed with the scarlet.

"Sherlock tell me honestly...how bad is it?"

He pushed her hair back from her forehead.

"I'm sure it will look better once we've cleaned it up, wait here."

He ran into the kitchen, tearing open the cupboards and removing John's 'emergency' medical kit and a wet cloth in a bowl before running back to Demitria. He knelt beside her, hands uncharacteristically gentle as he wiped the blood from her face, removing the leftover glass. She winced.

"Sorry."

"I'm fine." She said with clenched teeth. He made sure the wounds were clean before sticking some butterfly stitches on the bigger ones, smoothing them over her cheeks with his thumb.

"So how do I look?" She asked. He smiled slightly.

"Like your window just exploded."

The door went and Demi rolled her eyes.

"John's probably forgotten his keys again..."

"I'll get it." Said Sherlock, disappearing from the room. Demi sighed and looked around. The bowl of water was now crimson, the remains of her window lay around the room. She stood and walked to the living room where, in stead of John as was expected, she walked directly into Mycroft Holmes. And she was wearing teeny tiny silk pyjamas.

"Shit! Sorry Mycroft, I...er..."

She tried to cover herself slightly and Sherlock rolled his eyes, plucking at his violin violently.

"Excellent vocabulary Demetria. Go and get dressed."

She nodded, cheeks scarlet, and left the room, bumping into John.

"Hi John." She said quickly before scarpering. Once dressed she walked back into the living room where Mycroft was telling John and Sherlock about something called the 'Bruce-Partington plans'. Sherlock looked up at her, nodded, and turned to Mycroft.

"How's the diet?"

"Fine." Answered Mycroft boredly. Demi sidled up to John, smirking. "Sherlock this case is of National importance, don't make me order you."

"I'd like to see you try. Why can't you do it anyway? Too low level?"

"I can't afford to be away from the office, not with the Korean elections so..."

Demi blinked, exactly how involved in politics _was_ Mycroft?

"Anyway, cases like this involve _legwork._ At least consider it?"

Sherlock looked away and Demi smiled apologetically at Mycroft. He smiled back and stood.

"Well I have to get going. Demi dear are you all right?"

She nodded.

"My window exploded...I'm fine though."

"Good." He smiled. "Sherlock you really should consider that case. Good bye."

Mycroft left and Sherlock screeched loudly on his violin.

"Well that proves it then." Said John.

"Proves what?" Asked Demi.

"That Sherlock is human after all. Sibling rivalry, nice."

Sherlock was about to retort when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"_Sherlock, it's Lestrade. We need you down at the station, bring the others."_

"On our way."

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

They followed Lestrade down the corridor, ignoring the looks they got – they were used to being regarded as Scotland Yard's resident freak show – and listened to the Detective Inspector as he spoke.

"So that explosion near your flat-"

"Hmm, gas leak right?" Said Sherlock.

"No actually it seems it wasn't. You see all that was left was a strong box – a _very _strong box – this was inside it," He handed them an envelope with 'Sherlock Holmes' written on it, "We've scanned it it's not rigged."

"How reassuring. Demi what do you see?"

She looked at it.

"Nice handwriting, it was a she judging by the form – nibbed pen, probably Parker judging by the ink..."

Sherlock nodded.

"Veridian nib, Bohemian stationary."

He opened the envelope and out fell a brand new iPhone, pink and shiny.

"That's the phone from the cabbie case." Said John.

"What a Study In Pink?" Said Lestrade. Demi laughed loudly, wincing as it pulled on her stitches.

"Hear that Sherlock? He's read the blog."

"We've all read it. Did you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?"

Sherlock ignored him, examining the phone.

"It's not the same phone, someone's gone to great lengths to make it look like it though..."

He touched the screen.

"_One new message – Beep,Beep,Beep,Beep,Beep..."_

A picture of a shabby looking flat showed up on the screen. Demi's eyes widened.

"Oh dear..."

"What?" Asked Lestrade.

"I studied this, it's an old method of threatening people. Some would send dried melon seeds, orange pips..."

"It's going to happen again." Said Sherlock. Demi's breathing hitched as she began to hyperventilate. Sherlock looked over.

"Demitria?"

"Oh my God Sherlock that's the flat below aunty Jean's! What if they blow her up oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"

"Demitria!"

She looked up at his eyes, her own wide with panic. He tilted her head with his hand.

"Breath slowly."

She slowed her breathing gradually.

"Now, do you honestly think I'm going to let them – whoever they are – blow up your aunt?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Well there you have it then. Focus, you're of no use when you're panicking."

She nodded and Donovan coughed.

"Sorry to interrupt your little moment but what exactly is going to happen again?"

"BOOM!" Said Sherlock before towing Demi by the arm. "Come on John, Lestrade."

Donovan watched them go, eyeing the hand on Demi's arm and turning to another policeman.

"Since when did he do physical contact? Dimmock's probably right, I bet they're shagging."

xxxxxxxxx

They burst into their home and knocked on Mrs Hudson's door.

"Aunty Jean?"

She opened the door.

"Oh hello Demi dear, what's the matter sweetheart? – you look flustered."

"Can we have the key to that flat?" She gestured with her finger. "We need to have a look inside."

Her aunt nodded and handed her the key. Demi quickly unlocked both locks, throwing the door open.

"Thank aunty Jean!" And she disappeared inside, followed by the three men. They walked down the stairs and saw...a pair of shoes.

"Oh how anti-climatic." Noted Demi.

"He's a bomber remember." Said John as Sherlock stepped forwards, crouching beside the trainers. The phone in his hand went off and he pressed the loudspeaker button.

"Hello?"

"_H-Hello, s-sexy. I've sent you a little puzzle."_ The voice was that of the woman, sobbing as she spoke.

"Why are you crying?" Asked Sherlock.

"_I'm not c-c-crying, I'm typing."_

The woman broke down and Demi's heart clenched. They continued though, in a fragile voice.

"_And this stupid b-bitch is reading it out. 12 hours to s-solve my puzzle Sherlock, or I'm going to be so naughty."_ She gave one final sob and the phone went dead. Demi looked down at the shoes.

"You can use the lab at St. Bart's, I'll get you in."

Sherlock put on his gloves and picked up the shoes. Demi ran and grabbed a plastic bag from her aunt's flat before putting the shoes in it.

"Let's go."

**Review! Sorry it's so short!**


	3. Chapter 3

Demi had offered to work an extra hour so that Sherlock could use the lab. Wheeling a corpse back into it's drawer (cause of death choking), she washed her hands and walked in to where he was examining shoe laces while the computer scanned for pollen.

"Anything yet?"

"Hmm."

Well that could have meant anything. John sat opposite Sherlock tapping his fingers on the counter top. Sherlock's phone beeped.

"Can you get that?"

"Where is it?" Sighed Demi.

"Pocket."

"You can't be serious."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

She sighed dramatically and walked over, reaching into the inner lining of his jacket and pulling out his phone. She pressed a few buttons.

"It's Mycroft. He's sent you...eight more texts."

"Delete them."

"They might be important." Said John.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Demanded Sherlock.

"What?" Asked John, confused now. Demi rolled her eyes.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk, unlike Mr Antisocial here."

Sherlock nodded as the door opened and Molly entered with a man. Demi, who's hand was mid way through putting Sherlock's phone back in his pocket, smiled.

"Hi Molly, hey Jim."

The man grinned.

"Hi Demi."

Molly smiled.

"This is Sherlock Holmes and..."

"John Watson." Nodded Demi, pointing in his direction. "They're the flatmates I told you about."

He grinned.

"Sherlock this is Jim, he works in IT upstairs, office romance." Giggled Molly.

"Gay." Said Sherlock. Demi kicked him in the shin. Hard.

"What?" Said Molly.

"Hey." He said, smiling at Jim.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes! Molly's told me all about you! Are you on one of your cases then?"

Sherlock didn't answer but Demi nodded. Jim walked over and 'tripped', slipping his number under a silver dish.

"Well I'd best be off then, see you at the Fox tonight Molls?"

She nodded.

"It was nice meeting you."

Sherlock didn't answer again, John spoke for him.

"You too."

Jim turned and left and Molly glared at Sherlock.

"What do you mean gay? He's not gay! We're together!"

"With that level of personal grooming?"

"So he uses product in his hair? I do that!" Said John, noting that Demi had suddenly become very quiet.

"You wash your hair, no he had tinted eyebrows, touring finger around the frown lines...then there's his underwear."

"Underwear?" Demanded Molly.

"Visible, very visible, very particular brand. That and the highly suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish," He removed said number with a flourish, "So I suggest you break it off and save yourself the pain."

Molly stormed out of the room in tears and Demi slapped Sherlock extremely hard across the face, leaving an angry red mark.

"Sherlock that was horrible!"

"Oh don't give me that, you knew he was gay."

She shrank slightly before glaring again.

"Yes but she's my friend Sherlock! I didn't want to senselessly break her heart into pieces like you did! Do you have no consideration at all?"

They glared at each other until the computer beeped and their gazes shot to the screen.

"He was from Sussex." Said Demi, tone tight and angry before leaving the room.

"John look at the shoes, what do you think?" Said Sherlock.

"I'm not going to make an idiot of myself. Ask Demi."

"Demi is working John."

"That's never stopped you before."

Sherlock just pointed towards the shoes. John sighed and picked it up.

"Well it's very eighties...maybe one of those retro brands? Adult sizing...but there's felt tip on the inside, adults don't write their names on their shoes."

"Well you're on sparkling form. You got almost everything wrong of course but it was a good try. Ah Demitria, analyse the shoe if you will."

She rolled her eyes and picked up the trainer, whipping out her phone and typing something in before nodding to herself and speaking.

"Limited edition two blue stripes, 1989. They've been whitened and the person who owned them had eczema. There's traces of a name..."

She tried to read the smeared name, eyes widening as she dropped it on to the surface of the table with an audible 'thunk'.

"Demitria are you okay?" Asked Sherlock as he saw the far away look in her eyes.

"Carl Powers."

"What?" Asked John. Sherlock had gained a similar look of remembrance.

"The year after my dad died a boy had a fit in a pool. I remember knowing something was wrong...of course with my being eight no one believed me."

Sherlock looked over again and saw the tear roll down from her eye. He caught it on the end of his finger, examined it, and stood.

"Demi sign out we have somewhere to go."

xxxxxxx

Sat in a taxi John realised just how perceptive his friends were.

For goodness sake, Sherlock had been fourteen, Demi had been _eight _and they still knew that it was murder, that something was off! Sherlock had even noticed the lack of the boy's _shoes_!

"You started young didn't you?"

Demi looked over and smiled sadly.

"After dad died mum just...lost it. I'd never really been in her good books and my reading up on murders and things so soon after dad was...well I think that's what did it, snapped the final chord between us."

"So the killer kept the shoes all these years?" Asked John.

They nodded.

"He started young too." Said Demi.

Sherlock attempted a reassuring smile and she smiled back, the sentiment warming her features again. She looked much prettier when she smiled than when she was sad, he decided.

xxxxxxx

They dissected the shoe and pinned it on a makeshift washing line in the kitchen. Demi and John simultaneously pulled their phones from their pockets. She eyed the screen.

_Demi_

_I'm fairly sure my brother is ignoring my messages. If it is not too much to ask, could you please remind him that the case I have for him is of national importance._

_I hope you are well,_

_Mycroft_

She smiled at the thought that Mycroft's text messages were more like formally written letters than the abbreviated monstrosities she sent. Sherlock noticed her smile.

"What?"

"Your brother is texting us now, says to remind you that the case is of national importance."

"How did he get my number? How did he get yours?" Said John. Demi rolled her eyes.

"Well I gave him mine, and as for yours? He's related to Sherlock John."

John shrugged. Sherlock just scowled. How dare she smile at _Mycroft's _texts. She never smiled at his. Usually she rolled her eyes and told him to do it himself. Unfortunately Demitria was talented and he would need her to solve Mycroft's case, meaning that she would be in the vicinity of his friend-stealing brother.

Damn.

"Sherlock?"

"I'm putting my two best workers on Mycroft's case right now."

"Who are they?"

xxxxxxxx

He led them into the office and Demi smiled.

"Sorry Sherlock couldn't be here, you know him. Fortunately you got the next best thing."

Mycroft smiled slightly and nodded as she pulled out a notepad.

"So if you could just give us some more background info on the dead man?" Said John as Demi sat back on the chair.

"27, Clark at Vauxhall Cross, MI6. Involved in the program in a minor way, security checks a-okay, no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies, last seen by his fiancé at 10:30 yesterday evening. Found on the tracks of Battersea but didn't buy a ticket. Is that enough for now?"

She smiled and nodded, finishing her sentence.

"Thank you Mycroft, we'll try to get back to you as soon as we can."

They got up and began to leave. Demi turned around suddenly and pecked Mycroft on the cheek.

"Hope your mouth feels better soon. Send my regards to...whatever her name is today."

"Andromeda."

"Interesting." She smiled. "Bye Mycroft."

She turned to John.

"Come Robin, to Baker Street!"

Sat in the taxi Demi checked her watch. 3 hours left.

xxxxxxxxx

Sherlock was crouched over a microscope when they got back. Demi's aunt was bustling around the kitchen.

"Poison!" Shouted Sherlock. Mrs Hudson jumped and hurried from the room as he leapt upright.

"Sherlock what have I told you about spontaneous outbursts about methods of murder?" Smiled Demi, leaning against the door frame. He turned to face her.

"Clostridium botulinum! The deadliest poison on the face of the Earth! It was simple, they introduced it into his eczema cream!"

He furiously typed something into a laptop and waited.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting it on the blog, let the killer know, stop the clock."

Suddenly the pink phone on the desk rang. He pressed loud speaker and they waited with bated breath.

"Hello?"

"Well...d-done. C-come and g-get me."

Demi sighed with relief after they hung up the phone and hugged Sherlock furiously.

"All gittishness forgiven, well done Sherlock. Well done."

**Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

They stood around in Scotland Yard, half the force watching the exchange.

"The woman was attacked by masked men, driven to a car park and decked out in enough explosives to take down a house!"

"Where's she from?" Asked Demi, surveying the room.

"Cornwall apparently."

"I'm from Cornwall." She said, "Not that it's of any significance but there you have it fact fans."

Sherlock stored that away in his 'Demitria' file.

"Why is he doing this?" Asked Lestrade, rubbing his eyebrows.

"Well I can't be the only person in the world who gets bored." Said Sherlock.

"No but most of us just read a book."

"Ugh, dull."

"I will make you read Harry Potter if it kills me."

He rolled his eyes and the phone beeped. He looked down at the surface and frowned.

"It's a slide show."

"Plug it in to the mainframe."

Sherlock attached the phone to a screen and the message appeared on the screen.

_Well done. Aren't you a clever boy?_

The text rolled across the screen.

_Now for a special treat. A step in to the past._

Confused looks were thrown around the room as a video feed started. A little girl with dark hair was sat reading a paper in the black and white film (obviously the slide show didn't do colour).

"_What you got there freak?" Came a male voice beside the person holding the camera. The girl glared up at them._

"_Miss Sanders told you to stop calling me that."_

"_Well Miss Sanders isn't here to see me do it is she?" A hand darted out and snatched the paper and a boy appeared on the screen._

"_Drownings? You're not supposed to be reading about those. You're a baby."_

"_I'm not a baby! Give it back!"_

Beside Sherlock Demi had begun to shake violently.

"_Make me!" The boy shouted back. The boy took a lighter out of his pocket, flicked the button and held it under the newspaper, watching as it caught alight._

"_Stop it! Give it back!" Cried the girl, eyes shining and overflowing with tears._

"_What are you going to do baby? Cry to mummy?" _

"_I am NOT A BABY!" And she launched herself at him, tiny fist making contact with his face and breaking his nose. A scream sounded out (presumably the person holding the camera)._

"Sherlock make them turn it off, please make them turn it off." Demitria was almost hysterical as she grabbed his arm. He looked her in the eyes and saw the absolute pain within.

"Lestrade turn it off."

"_Mummy! Mummy Demitria hit Sebastian again! And she was reading horrible things!" Came the voice of the girl who had screamed._

Demi was on the floor, curled up. Sherlock knelt beside her, cradling her in his arms as the room stared at them.

"I SAID TURN IT OFF!"

"We can't" Said Anderson. "It could be a lead."

_The eight year old Demi was stood in front of an austere looking woman now._

"_Demitria what have I told you about hitting people?"_

"_It's wrong mummy."_

"_Yes, so why did you do it?"_

"_Because you told me to treat people how they want to be treated, Sebastian was mean to me and so he obviously wanted me to be mean to him."_

"_Don't twist my words young lady!"_

"_I'm not -"_

"_And what is this about reading horrible stories?"_

"_Well a boy had a fit in a pool and-"_

"_And it was a terrible accident Demitria."_

"_But mummy! He wasn't epil-epileptic or anything!"_

"_Demitria." Her tone was firm now. "Sometimes nasty things happen to people yes. But this was an accident Demitria. Not a murder!_

"_But mummy!"_

"_No! I will not have you being so...so...abnormal Demitria! You're eight! Go and apologise to Sebastian."_

"_I don't want to."_

_Her mother was very red in the face now._

"_Go and apologise!"_

"_He deserved it!"  
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"_

_The little girl ran crying from the room._

The film stopped and the screen went blank as Sherlock ripped it from the camera wire. Demi had been helped into a chair. He walked over and she looked up at him.

"Demitria do you have any idea how they got that film?"  
She shook her head. Lestrade frowned around the room.

"All right everybody out now!"

He walked over, handing her a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry Demitria, I really am."

She smiled shakily.

"It's not your fault. It's mine."

Sherlock scowled.

"No it's not." He was about to continue when the phone buzzed again. Four beeps sounded through the now nearly empty room and he showed them the picture, a car.

"I'll run the plate, see if its missing."

Lestrade left the room and Donovan walked in, holding the phone towards Sherlock and pausing to throw a look that could be translated as a pitiful smile towards Demi.

"It's for you."

He took the phone and Demi half listened to what he was saying.

"I see you've stolen a new voice...speak to me in your own voice then..."

She felt like the life she had spent so long making had suddenly collapsed. Like the mysterious person making the calls knew everything about her. Sherlock hung up the phone and John looked up from where he had been sat.

"Demitria are you okay to keep going?"

Bloody hell Sherlock was being considerate. She shrugged and another tear escaped.

"I'm scared Sherlock. He knows who I am! He has tapes that I'm fairly sure I burned!"

"And he's using them to get to you."

"Why?" She demanded. "Why would he want to get to a mortician?"

_Because then he can get to me._ But Sherlock remained silent. She stood up, wiping her eyes and straightening her back.

"Well then let's catch this bastard. Because when we do I'm going to break his face."

Lestrade walked in, seemingly nervous.

"Car was hired by an Ian Monkford. Paid in cash. It's been found my the river."

xxxxxxxxxx

They arrived at the crime scene, Demi having re-done her make up in the taxi (all the while ignoring sarcastic comments from her two male companions and threatening Sherlock with red lipstick if he didn't shut up) and now looking a lot better after what she had dubbed 'the incident'. Donovan was back to her sarcastic self as she let them in.

"Still hanging around him then? You guys should get yourselves a hobby. Stamps maybe, model trains...much safer."

They went to look at the car. Blood was spread across the seats. She looked for any clues while Sherlock slipped something from the car pocket into his own. She smiled slightly as he and John went off to talk to Monkford's wife. Donovan wandered over.

"You all right?"

Demi froze at the unexpected sentiment before nodding.

"I'll live."

"He likes you you know, the f-Holmes."

She smiled at her.

"He's actually an amazing friend when you give him a chance. A good man beneath the pompous git everybody else sees."

Donovan smiled slightly. She didn't like Sherlock Holmes, hell she didn't even like Demitria Blake that much. But those people in that film, the ones who called her a freak, abnormal...they were her family.

"This doesn't make us friends you know." She said.

"Oh I know. Just not enemies."

Demitria grinned cheekily as Sherlock wandered over with a concerned looking John in tow.

"Well?"

"She talked about him in the past tense. He was depressed for months and very organised. Come on Demitria, we have places to be!"

She rolled her eyes and walked over to him. Donovan watched their retreating figures.

Definitely shagging.

xxxxxxxxx

It had taken Demi a few minutes to stifle her giggles at the name of the car company, especially since the card Sherlock had snagged from the crime scene was battered, the first letter of the name hardly visible.

And so, her inner child reigning free, Demi giggled at the words 'anus Cars' while Sherlock shook his head and John stifled his own laughing. Finally they arrived at the company and the poker faces were put on. They had briefly shared a game plan before going in but knowing interviews with Sherlock, anything could happen.

"Yeah he came by recently. Nice car, Mazda. Wouldn't mind owning one of them myself."

Demi, who had been landed with the job of 'slightly brainless female helper' in the game plan smiled widely and pointed behind Mr Ewitt.

"Is that one?"

He turned to look and Sherlock checked his collar.

"No those are all Jags, I can see you're not a car person."

She shrugged and smiled.

"Not really."

"Did you have a nice holiday Mr Ewitt? You look tanned." Sherlock spoke.

"No this is tanning beds I'm afraid, can't afford a holiday. My wife would love one though."

"Sorry to bother you but do you have any change for the cigarette machine? I just saw one outside and I'm _gasping._" Said Sherlock, brandishing a fiver. Mr Ewitt opened his wallet.

"Nope sorry mate."

"Well thank you for your time Mr Ewitt." Said Demi. They filed out and Demi burst into giggles.

"_Is that one?_" She squeaked, fluttering her eyelashes. "Honestly, the things I do for you! What did you get?"

"Mr Ewitt's a liar. Taxi!"

xxxxxxx

They sat in the taxi with Demi looking over at Sherlock.

"What?" He asked after a while.

"I'm just trying to figure out how you get a taxi _every time _you ask for one! They never stop for me!"

He smirked slightly. She shook her head and looked him over once more.

"It must be the gloves. Definitely the gloves."

John just shook his head and laughed.

xxxxxxx

Demi walked into the morgue and saw Molly.

"Hi Molls, do you mind if we use the lab quickly?"

"Will Sherlock be there?"

"Unfortunately. He wants to test some blood, shouldn't take ten minutes."

Molly nodded sadly.

"Molly?"

She looked up.

"Sherlock's an ass, he honestly can't help it. If it helps I slapped him for being horrid to you."

Molly laughed and smiled.

"You can use the lab if you want."

Demi hugged Molly and smiled.

"Thank you!"

xxxxxxxxx

Sherlock was just dropping something onto some blood and making it fizz when Demi walked in, handing both him and John (who was loitering around looking at the displays on the walls) a coffee. The pink phone rang and Sherlock picked it up.

"Hello?...why would you be giving me a clue..."

He put the phone down.

"Demitria what do you know about Janus?"

"Well apart from the fact that it sounds absolutely hilarious he was supposedly a God with two faces. Why?"

"The clue is in the name...we have to tell Lestrade."

And they were off again.

They found themselves in the room where the car was being stored. Lestrade looking at them expectantly.

"Well?"

"How much blood would you say in on the seats?"

"About a pint." Said John. "Why?"

"It was a pint exactly, their first mistake, I had these two check the man's medical records. He gave a pint of blood recently. I tested the blood on the seats, it's been frozen. I'm willing to bet that they spread a pint of blood that he had given onto the seats."

"So he's not dead?"

"No. The clue is in the name, Janus cars. The two faced god. You need your problems solving and Janus cars will help you disappear. Mr Ewitt had a tan line around his neck – no one wears a shirt on a sun bed – he also kept scratching his arm. Most likely because he had recently had a booster jab. Hep B probably, hard to tell from that distance."

"So where is Monkford now?"

"Columbia."

"Colum- please tell me you're not just making this up!"

"He had a Columbian peso note in his wallet, quite a bit of change too. So he's just been abroad helping Monkford settle into his new life in Columbia. Case closed."

Demi and John blinked, joining the facts. The three stooges then began to walk away, Sherlock with a spring in his step.

"I am on FIRE!"  
Demi rolled her eyes.

Back at the flat, Sherlock posted the outcome on his blog.

Twenty minutes later the stolen voice was safe.

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	5. Chapter 5

Demi eyed Sherlock over a large mug of very strong coffee. He stared back. John watched as Demi was forced to blink as her eyeballs dried out and Sherlock have a cry of triumph. He rolled his eyes, staring competitions? Really? He noted though that she was looking happier now, having stopped in the café bathroom to re-apply make-up and consumed about a gallon of coffee so strong it practically had biceps. She sipped said coffee and spoke.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Has it occurred to you..."

"Probably."

She kicked him under the table as John continued to eat, watching the other two with amusement.

"Has it occurred to you that the killer is playing some sort of psychological game with you? I mean I've been thinking over the case files I studied for my degrees and...well it seems likely."

Her eyebrows creased worriedly. John swallowed.

"Sherlock pay attention, she's got a point."

He shrugged.

"So what? Games are fun right?"

Demi scowled and prodded him in the shoulder.

"Sherlock! I'm not talking Scrabble here!"

Sherlock met her eyes evenly.

"Don't you have work to go to?"

"Not for half an hour, stop trying to change the subject."

"How long are you working today?" Asked John. She shrugged.

"A few hours." She spoke slowly, obviously resisting the urge to re-fracture his nose. The phone on the table between them buzzed and Sherlock snatched it up, opening the text to reveal a picture of a blonde woman wearing far too much lipstick as 3 beeps sounded through the room, earning the trio several annoyed looks.

"Well that could be anyone! Do women always wear astoundingly bright lipstick?"

"Only the awesome ones." Said Demi in a mock-sincere voice whilst pouting her own scarlet lips theatrically. John snatched the phone from Sherlock as the latter rolled his eyes.

"Hey!"

"Well lucky for you two I've been more than a little unemployed."

"John stop speaking in riddles or I may be forced to do something I'll regret."

"Lucky for you I've watched far too much day time telly with your aunt." He snatched up the remote controller from the side and flicked on to a show that announced 'Connie Prince found dead in home in London'. On the screen above the notice was the dead woman's face.

"That's her!" Announced Sherlock, face flicking between the screen and his phone at an alarming rate. "Demitria hurry up, we need to get you to work!"

"Why so enthusiastic?" She asked, eyebrows creasing.

"You will be inspecting the cadaver! Come on John."

The phone rang then and Demi watched as Sherlock spoke.

"Hello...why are you doing this?..."

She bit her lip worriedly. Who was on the end of the phone this time? Were they crying too, like the first woman had been?

"Sherlock?" She asked as he hung up the phone.

"Yes?"

"What did they say, when you asked why they were doing it?"

He paused for a moment, hailing a taxi as he did so.

"I like to watch you dance."

XxXxXxXxX

Demi signed in and pulled on her lab coat, tying her black hair into a scruffy ponytail before grabbing the Connie Prince case file (though an autopsy had already been conducted, Sherlock had moaned at Lestrade until he got the body transferred to St. Bart's).She nudged the door of the morgue open and was met by the three men, John looking at the body whilst Sherlock and Lestrade argued.

"I don't see why you want another autopsy doing!"

"Because your morticians always get _something _wrong."

"And Demi doesn't?"

"Not if I can help it." She smiled, watching as he jumped about a foot in the air. "According to this case file, Connie Prince died two days ago. She was out in the garden and cut her hand on a rusty nail. Tetanus gets into the system and..."

"Good night Vienna." Finished Sherlock. Demi rolled her eyes but nodded nonetheless. She eyed the corpse before speaking.

"John, look at that cut. Something is wrong with it."

He looked down, inspecting the cut.

"Well it's very clean..."

"Too clean." Finished Sherlock, looking at the case file over Demi's shoulder. "The mortician didn't clean the cut."

"It was made post mortem." Finished Demi.

"So the bacteria got into her body another way?" Asked John. Sherlock nodded.

"It would seem so. Demitria, I'll need a thorough autopsy doing. Everything in detailed notes."

She nodded.

"You'll need them, this autopsy report is bloody awful. Who trained this person?"

Lestrade shrank slightly but didn't comment. Sherlock began to make his way towards the door, rattling on about his day plans.

"Sherlock?" Asked Lestrade. Sherlock looked back.

"What?"

"Why is the killer doing this? Letting us know about the murders?"

"Good Samaritan."

"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Bad Samaritan."

Demi giggled but stopped as soon as Lestrade gave her a firm glare.

"Sherlock this is serious!"

Sherlock looked at him as if to a child.

"I know. Come on John! Places to be, people to interview!"

The men left and Demi began setting out the autopsy equipment, looking over to the body as she did.

"I will never _ever_ understand that man. Now Connie my dear, what do you have to tell me?"

XxXxXxXxX

John had somehow found himself in the house of Connie Prince's brother. A brother who, it must be added, was sitting uncomfortably close and holding what appeared to be an inside out cat. He'd been asking questions for a while and was becoming increasingly desperate.

"Well I just need to make a call."

"Oh by all means do." The man replied, waving his hand. John scurried out, picking up his phone and dialling.

"Hello?"

"Sherlock I need your help I think I'm on to something. You'll need to pick up some things, have you got a pen?"

"I'll remember."  
"Well you'll need a camera..."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Demi sighed as she wheeled Connie into a freezer drawer, peeling off her gloves and picking up her phone before opening a text.

_Second autopsy complete. COD botulinum toxin, injected into bloodstream. You owe me big time. Demi._

Pleased with her handiwork she set about cleaning the equipment.

XxXxXxXxXxX

John was extremely proud with himself as they left the house.

"You think it was the cat? It wasn't the cat."

He stopped short.

"Well of course it was! New cat, bit jumpy. The floor cleaner was put on the claws by her brother and entered her bloodstream when it scratched her."

"Raoul kept a clean house, used lots of floor cleaner. You stink of disinfectant even now. No it wasn't her brother."

"He killed her for her money."

"Did he?"

John sighed, Sherlock was being annoyingly cryptic.

"Well what was it then."

Sherlock brandished his phone.

"Second autopsy results from Demitria, botulinum toxin. Our killer is repeating himself."

They hailed a taxi and went to collect Demi.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"The killer was Raoul De Santos! He killed Connie using an injection of clostridium botulinum."

"How?" Asked Lestrade, looking over to where Demi, John and Sherlock had marched in, Sherlock with Demi's autopsy results held high.

"Botox injections are a weakened form of botulinum, he's been bulk ordering it for months. He'd become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and when Connie threatened to ruin that he made sure she died before she did. Case closed."

He marched into Lestrade's office, opened up his laptop and within twenty seconds was typing his findings into his blog. The phone rang and he picked it up.

"Hello?"

Demi watched as his eyes widened slightly.

"No...no don't.." He lowered the phone and realisation dawned on her.

"They're dead aren't they?" She whispered. Sherlock nodded.

"She started describing him."

Demi cried then, because no matter how hard you try, there are always some people you cannot save.

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	6. Chapter 6

They sat back in the flat, watching the television as the explosion caused by the latest victim was explained away as a gas explosion.

"They're all liars in that profession." Said Demi, glowering at the television. "Bastards."

"The killer is taking his time this time." Noted Sherlock eyeing the phone. Demi walked over and snatched it up. Sherlock was on his feet in moments.

"Demitria give it back."

"Why Sherlock? So that we can hear some poor bugger crying for us to help them? How long did you know last time? Before I gave you the results?"

He sighed.

"A few hours but..."

"But nothing! This is all a game to you isn't it?"

Sherlock didn't speak. John stepped in.

"Sherlock there are lives at stake here! Actual human lives!"

"So what?" Said Sherlock. Demi stepped back, the phone dropping to the floor.

"Sherlock..."

"What? You expected me to care? Caring doesn't save them Demitria! Don't make me into a hero because they don't exist and even if they did I wouldn't be one!"

She slapped him then, the sound reverberating through the flat.

"Well don't care then! Screw you! If it was me strapped to that bomb, or John or my aunty Jean would you care then? Of course not! Because you're a dick!"

The door went and she took one more tearful look at him before storming out to answer it. John sighed.

"One day you're going to upset her so much that she's not going to come back Sherlock. And that day you'll have no one but yourself to blame."

He closed the partition to the kitchen and set about making tea.

XxXxXxXxX

Demi wiped away a tear as she opened the door.

"Are you quite all right my dear?"

"Oh hello Mycroft. I'm okay I guess, Sherlock's just being Sherlock. Come in you must be freezing!"

She helped him out of his coat, hanging it on the pegs in the hallway.

"So to what do I owe this honour?" She smiled.

"I was simply wondering how the Bruce-Partington case was going."

She nodded.

"I've been writing some theories up in my notebook...it's upstairs in my room, would you like to see them?"

He nodded and she led him upstairs, opening the door to her sparsely filled room and opening a drawer, pulling out a leather bound notebook.

"Thank you for the book by the way, it's been incredibly helpful recently."

He smiled.

"Not a problem my dear. Now, shall we have a look at those notes?"

XxXxXxXxX

Sherlock was getting impatient. The killer still hadn't called, John was reading a book and Demitria had been gone for the best part of twenty minutes. John stood up to make more tea. Sherlock heard laughter outside the door and stood, walking over silently and peeping through the crack in the door. Demitria was indeed laughing...as she left _her bedroom _with _his brother_ looking incredibly happy. His blood boiled in his veins, how dare Mycroft! Sherlock had been told firmly never to enter Demitria's bedroom so why should his brother? He froze as the realisation as to exactly why any man generally enters a lady's bedroom hit him with the force of a train.

Demitria had said she wasn't interested in relationships...she wouldn't do that...not with his brother _while he was still in the flat_...right?

He opened the door, stepping out onto the landing so that he could see them by the front door. Her voice drifted upwards.

"Well I hope I've been slightly helpful." She laughed. "I'm no professional."

"Thank you my dear."

Sherlock leaned forwards to see why they had suddenly gone silent. He almost fell from the landing.

Mycroft had lifted her chin and pressed his lips to her own.

XxXxXxXxX

Demi didn't back away. She had long ago resigned herself to thinking that no-one would ever love her, the freaky girl with the temper. Her first and only boyfriend had been a dick. Sherlock wouldn't notice her if, for some inexplicable reason, she did a Lady Godiva and ran naked through London. So why should she push Mycroft away?

_Because you don't love him._

She sighed, stepping back, a blush on her cheeks as she bit her lip.

"Thank you again Demi."

"And you, safe journey." She offered, He smiled and left. Suddenly Sherlock was bounding down the stairs, his face cold as he did up his scarf.

"John! Demitria! We have a location!"

Demi put her coat on, pulling her tatty gloves on to her fingers.

She had never been so confused.

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	7. Chapter 7

Demi and Sherlock appeared to be ignoring each other. Again. John was certain that he would eventually go mad if they didn't stop doing this. Because neither of them were talking to each other and neither of them were talking to him. They just glared out of the windows, the annoyance between them almost palpable. When they eventually arrived at the river bank Sherlock shot out of the taxi so fast that he appeared to be a blur. Demi sighed and John looked over.

"I probably shouldn't have shouted at him like that."

"He needed to hear it. Although maybe you could have toned down the insults a little bit."

She sighed and paid the cabbie before walking towards the body where Sherlock was looking up and down the river bank.

"I don't see what's wrong with him though. I mean I shout at him loads and he never reacts like this..." She trailed off and John shrugged. They crowded around the body, Demi on John's right and Sherlock on his left.

"Any ideas?" Asked Lestrade, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Seven so far." Answered Sherlock. Demi rolled her eyes and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

"Well shall we?" She asked, kneeling beside the body. Sherlock checked his clothing as John and Demi examined the corpse itself.

"I'd say he's been dead about 24 hours." Said John, Demi nodded.

"Asphyxiation." She added.

"That Lost Vermeer is a fake." Added Sherlock. All three of his companions turned to look at him.

"Okay, even I'm lost now." Said Demi. Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered something about women. Demi bristled and clenched her fists but refrained from murdering Sherlock in front of a Detective Inspector. By way of explanation Sherlock decided to go off in another apparently random tangent.

"Have you ever heard of the Golem?"

"The folk story or the assassin?" Questioned Demi, skipping a rock across the Thames.

"Both really, he's an extraordinarily large man who chokes his victims much like our unfortunate cadaver over here. And in answer to your obvious confusion earlier it's apparent the man works somewhere a uniform is required. Smart shirt and trousers, made of a hard wearing material and slightly too big – a uniform supplied for him at work then – I check his pockets and..."

"Tickets?" Said John, eyeing the soggy lump in Sherlock's hand.

"Ticket _stubs._ I thought train driver, he does spend a great amount of time sitting down – hence the flabby backside – but the veins on his legs suggest the spends a lot of time walking. The Golem removed any badges or identification but..." He brandished his phone, on the screen on which was a search. "Alex Woodbridge. He works in the museum where the Vermeer is said to be being revealed. Obviously he knew something about the painting being a fake, someone wasn't happy with that and sent the Golem after him. He failed to turn up at work yesterday morning."

"Fantastic!" Said John.

"Merry Christmas." Stated Demi sarcastically, shivering in the fog.

"And a Happy New Year!" Finished Lestrade. Sherlock grabbed Demi's arm, dragging her towards the road as John followed behind. She yanked her arm free and marched coldly beside him. They found themselves in another taxi. Demi idly thought of how much the trio spent on taxis every month before cringing at the mere illusion of such a figure. Suddenly Sherlock stopped the cab and Demi almost flew into the driver's seat. The lanky detective bolted from the cab with a call of 'Wait here' and walked up to what appeared to Demi to be a random hobo. He handed them a note and muttered something. The woman nodded and Sherlock ran back towards them.

"What are you doing?" Said John curiously, leaning on the cab door.

"Making an investment...have you got any cash?"

Demi rolled her eyes and muttered 'Idiot' as John nodded and Sherlock climbed back in, telling the driver to head for the gallery. He climbed out and without looking at Demi, who still had no idea why he was being suck an arse, spoke to John.

"Go and find Woodbridge's flat."

And he slammed the door. Demi sat back, frowning.

"What's going on? He always takes you with him Demi!"

She shrugged and glared out of the window as John gave the cabbie the address.

They arrived at Alex Woodbridge's flat and were welcomed in by a rather teary woman in a flowery shirt.

"So you just want a look in his room? You with the police?"

Demi nodded and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"We're very sorry for your loss."

The woman seemed slightly taken aback by the woman in reams of eyeliner but thanked her nonetheless and led them up the stairs.

"We shared a flat...just shared mind you. Cheaper this way."

Demi nodded and the woman continued.

"He was a nice guy Alex, I liked him. Not one for hoovering though." She poked the dusty carpet with her slipper and laughed quietly.

"Bit of a star gazer was he?" Asked John.

"Oh yeah, mad about it. The museum was just a job you know, he loved this. Sometimes he'd stay up all night...oh he got a bit of a funny phone message the other day, would that help?"

Demi nodded and the woman bustled off to get a phone. John knew something was up with Demi. She was never this silent for longer than necessary (i.e. when asleep). The woman came back in and pressed the button.

"_Is it on?...oh...Alex love it's Professor Kenz. You were bloody right! Call me when you can, this is huge!"_

Then the line went dead.

"Professor Kenz?" Asked John. The woman shrugged.

"I don't know her."

"Can we get that number?"

"We'll I've had other calls since...you know, sympathy calls. Sorry."

Demi and John's phones went off. They looked down.

_Have you spoken to West's fiancée yet? MH_

"Well thank you for your help." Said John as he threw Demi an odd look. Her face held an mixture of confusion, embarrassment and the grouchiness left over from her argument with Sherlock. They hailed another cab, adding on to the ever growing amount they spent on transport, and gave them the address before sitting down.

"Demi honestly what's wrong?"

She froze.

"Nothing."

"Is it Sherlock? If he's done anything I'll shoot him."

She shook her head as a single tear escaped her eye.

"It's not Sherlock but it is Sherlock and...oh John I'm so confused!"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she spoke.

"It's just that...well I showed Mycroft my notes on the West case and then he said thank you and then he kissed me and I don't really know what to do because I like Mycroft but not like that and then Sherlock was being an idiot which just made things worse..."

She sobbed again and he handed her a tissue.

"Hey there, you'll smudge your make up again! I'm sure Mycroft will understand if you tell him how you feel and...well Sherlock is Sherlock, he's probably just jealous anyway." He joked. She chuckled to herself.

"What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you John?"

"Well you didn't tell anyone it was me in the cabbie case." He said cryptically, aware of the driver of the cab. She smiled.

"That's true. Oh we're here and I look like a panda!"

She quickly checked her eyes in the car mirror, handing the cab driver the money with a smile that he dazily returned, eyes not entirely on her face. Then they knocked on the door of the house. A watery-eyed blonde woman opened the door.

"Can I help?"

"We're with the police, we're here about your fiancée." Said John. She nodded hastily and let them in. Demi sat with the woman – who's name was Lucy – as she told them about her ex-fiancée. At one of John's comments she stilled, scowling.

"Westie wasn't a traitor! That's a horrible thing to say! He was a good man...he was my good man..."

She started to cry and John wondered awkwardly how many crying women he could cope with in one day.

"I'm sure he was, he sounds like someone I would have liked." Said Demi. The woman nodded and smiled slightly.

"Lot's of people did like him."

"So what exactly happened?" Asked John.

"Well we were watching a film together...and usually he falls asleep but he sat through this one...and then he said he had to see someone and he left. Just like that."

"Well thank you for your time, we will try to catch the person responisble."

"Thank you."

She led them to the door where they bumped into a man on a bike. Demi thought idly that he smelled like University students.

"Who's this?" He asked.

"They're here about Westie...this is my brother." She added for the benefit of John and Demi.

"You with the police?" He asked.

"Sort of." Said Demi. He looked at her doubtfully, taking in her informal clothing and make up with a snort. She glowered at him.

"Well tell them to get a move on, this is bloody ridiculous."

John could all but see Demi counting in her head, trying to keep her temper. He hastily bid the siblings good bye and led her off.

"Come on Demi, don't kill smarmy biker man. Let's go find smarmy detective man."

She laughed as they hailed yet another cab.

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	8. Chapter 8

They did manage to find their flatmate, who had actually answered his phone (resulting in Demi yet again joking that she could see the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Sherlock never answered his phone). He stopped the cab again though and Demi, who was tired and grouchy, let loose a string of curse words in varying different languages as she banged her head. Sherlock ignored her and collected a note from what appeared to be the same homeless woman he'd given a lot of money earlier that day. He clambered back in.

"The Vauxhall Arches." He spoke to the cabbie. John yet again found himself sandwiched between Sherlock and Demi, only now he had a better understanding of why they were acting like they were aside from the fact that they were possibly slightly mentally unhinged. They found themselves trekking through the Vauxhall arches, ignoring the curious stares of the people sleeping on the floor, instead gazing upwards at the sky. It was rare in London to see the stars but tonight they were out in full force.

"Beautiful aren't they?" Said Sherlock.

"I thought you didn't care about stuff like that." Said John.

"John I care little for astronomy but I can still appreciate beauty."

Suddenly he pulled both Demi and John around a corner. Demi was about to protest when Sherlock's gloved hand covered her mouth.

"He's sleeping rough." Said John, peering round the corner. "Why?"

"Well he has rather a distinctive look." Said Sherlock as if it was obvious. Demi giggled, thinking internally that he sounded like a fashion designer, before realizing that he was still covering her mouth.

"Mmmmff" She tried. John looked over.

"Sherlock Demi can't talk when you do that."

"I know, think I like her more this way."

She bit him for his trouble and he uncovered her mouth. They chased after the tall shadow...only for the Golem to drive away very fast. Demi stopped and sighed.

"Oh bugger."

"Think I know where he's gone though." Said John, grinning at her.

"Where?" Said Sherlock boredly.

"Professor Kenz, she knew something that Woodbridge knew."

Soon after they were shooting off towards Professor Kenz.

* * *

When they arrived there were flashing lights going haywire. They could only just see the form of the Golem as he strangled the poor woman.

"GOLEM!" Shouted Sherlock. The man turned, dropping the woman on the floor before heading for them.

"Well done Sherlock." Said Demi as she dodged the massive limbs.

"Demitria stay out of the way!" He shouted as the Golem got him round the throat. John had gone off to check that the other woman was alive. She panicked.

"Let him go or I swear I'll kill you!"

Not surpisingly he ignored her. So she leapt forwards, sinking her teeth into his arm long anough for him to get go of Sherlock...and fling her across the room. She hit her head on the back wall and blood trickled into her eyes as she saw John shooting at the Golem and the large assassin making an exit.

She winced as John mopped up her head wound. He always carried basics around when he went out on a case.

"Okay Demi can you look at me...right you don't have a concussion its just a cut." He stuck the last strip onto her cut and stepped back. Sherlock was glaring at her.

"What?" She demanded, wincing as her head throbbed slightly.

"Do you have no respect whatever for what I say? I told you to stay out of the way and you got yourself knocked out!"

"I was trying to save your life! I don't see why I bothered seeing as you've been nothing but an arse to me for no apparent reason recently!"

John stepped back, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire.

"You slept with my brother!"

She looked as if he'd just slapped her.

"What?"

"Well he left your bedroom with you!"

"I was showing him notes for the case YOU told me to take a look at!"

"Well then why did he kiss you? Tell me that!"

John suddenly realised that his earlier words may not have been a lie. Sherlock Holmes was _jealous_.

Demi stepped up to him.

"I don't know Sherlock, perhaps he kissed me because he likes me? What does it matter to you anyway Holmes? You are NOT MY KEEPER!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her before checking his watch and walking away.

"We need to look at that Vermeer."

Only John saw Demi wipe away the tears.

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	9. Chapter 9

They had gathered together in the gallery with Lestrade and the gallery owner, a Czechoslovakian woman with a pinched face. Sherlock's phone rang and he pressed the speaker button.

"The Vermeer is a fake."

There was silence.

"Oh come on! I've figured it out, proving it is just details. Give me time!"

"Ten..." Came a shaky voice. "Nine..."

"Oh my God it's a kid!" Said Lestrade. Demi's eyes widened as she tried to focus on the painting. Suddenly she leapt up, pointing madly at a spot on the canvas.

"Six...Five..."

She pointed again, knowing that it had to be Sherlock who said it. His eyes lit up.

"Two...One.."

"The Van Buren Supernova!" He shouted. Demi sighed. The guy was an arse but he got the job done.

"Help me...please help me!" Came the voice of the boy and they sighed with relief. Sherlock nodded tersely at Demi who shrugged.

"How did you figure that out?" Asked Lestrade.

"John, didn't you hear it when Demi got herself beaten up? The Van Buren Supernova, exploding star that didn't appear until 1858."

John chuckled.

"So how can it have been painted in the 1650s...unless...that's brilliant!"

They followed Lestrade and the now handcuffed woman to Scotland Yard.

* * *

They sat around a table, eyeing the woman as she was asked questions.

"I found someone who's brushwork could fool anyone...well almost anyone." She eyed Demi and Sherlock who had been forced to sit side by side and were visibly furious at this fact. "But I had no idea how to go about making people believe it was genuine. It took a while but eventually I was put in touch with people who could make it happen. Never directly...there were just whispers..."

"Did these whispers have a name?" Asked Demi, leaning forwards.

"Moriarty." The woman whispered. Demi's phone went off, as did Johns. Sherlock caught a glimpse of the screen before they excused themselves.

_Crime scene available for inspection. MH_

Demi didn't even look at him as she left.

Demi and John donned luminous jackets before they were taken out to where West's body had been found. Demi tugged at her jacket and sighed.

"I feel like a glow worm."

John chuckled to himself as a large man pointed out the spot where the body had been discovered.

"Right about there. I hate 'em."

"Who?" Inquired Demi.

"Jumpers. It's easy for them aint it? One jump and they're gone. Not easy for us, strawberry jam all over the place. And the drivers have to live with it don't they?"

"Hmm." Said Demi in a tone that sounded oddly like Sherlock.

"Have you cleaned the tracks?" Asked John.

"What? No. Wasn't that much blood."

"But you said his head was bashed in." Said Demi, hand on hip. "There's bound to be blood."

"Nah, not really. You guys good then?"

They nodded and he wandered off. Demi sighed.

"Bloody brilliant."

"Well there wasn't much blood, he didn't buy a ticket, he wasn't on the train as far as we can tell...not as a passenger anyway..."

Demi's eyes lit up.

"So he was killed elsewhere, hence the lack of blood...but how did he get here?"

At that moment they both leapt about a foot in the air as the tracks clicked into place.

"Track switchers! Of course! He wasn't in the train he was on top of it! He fell off when he got to the track switchers!" Announced Demi. John was nodding madly.

"Knew you'd figure it out eventually." Came a deep voice from behind them. Demi's face dropped back into a scowl as she turned to face Sherlock.

"You've been following us?"

"Of course, you didn't honestly think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother did you? The plans haven't left the country – Mycroft's people would know – so whoever has them doesn't know what to do with them. Time to visit Joe Harrison."

"Why?"

But he was already walking off.

They arrived at the flat of West's fiancees brother...and he wasn't in.

"Brilliant." Sighed John as Demi pulled a pin from her hair and had the lock open in about two seconds flat.

"The name's Blake, Demi Blake." She winked at him before opening the door, firmly ignoring Sherlock. They wandered up the stairs and into the main room. It was sparsely furnished – not a rich guy then. Demi pointed to the windowsill.

"Sherlock."

He pulled out some sort of lens from God only knows where and began to look over the scarlet spatter.

"Definitely blood. A struggle perhaps."

At that moment the front door opened and as Demi turned around the owner of said flat brandished his bike at her. John stepped around the corner, pointing his gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

They all but forced the guy down onto a sofa and stood looking threatening until he caved.

"I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident...I just wanted the plans. See I got into drug dealing...owed a lot of people a lot of money – important people...Westie was usually so strict about his job but at the stag do he really opened up, waved the stick right in front of my face. It was easy getting it off of him he was so plastered...but he got suspicious, came round that night. We got into a bit of a fight and he fell down the stairs...I swear I was going to call an ambulance but it was already too late. I put the body there..." He gestured to the windowsill. "Just sat up all night thinking. Then I saw the train..."

"And you saw an opportunity to take the evidence far away." Finished Demi. The man nodded.

"Do you still have the stick?"

An hour later the guy was in prison, Sherlock had the coveted missile plans and the bomber had yet to call.

**Almost the grand finale! Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

Demi sighed as she walked down the street to work. She was glad for work, Sherlock was still being frosty. She honestly couldn't believe that he had taken her for that kind of girl. Yes Mycroft was charming, and certainly nicer to her than his younger brother, but she had told Sherlock she didn't love Mycroft and he had gone and accused her of sleeping around. She hung up her coat upon entering the morgue and sighed.

"Hey Molly I'm here to take over! Molly?" She shrugged at the lack of response and walked over to a freezer drawer that had been left ajar and pulled it out for inspection, screaming as she saw Molly, wrists bound and eyes wide with fear.

"Oh my God! Molly?" She pulled the gag from Molly's mouth and the woman screamed.

"Demi run!"

A hand covered Demi's mouth and another closed around her throat. A voice sounded in her ear as a man in black knocked Molly out.

"Have you enjoyed my surprise _Demi_? Because I planned it specially!"

She knew that voice. The accent had changed but it was definitely him.

"Jim? What are you doing?" She gasped. The man chuckled again, a low unnatural laugh.

"Why, don't you know?" There's still one pip left my dear."

"You're the killer? You're Moriarty?"

He laughed again then, gleeful and chilling.

"You know my name! Oh such an honour! I know all about you as well Demi, remember the little home video I sent you? I have plenty more!"

"Get away from me you bastard!" She screamed. The grip on her throat tightened again and she gasped for air, black spots invading her vision.

"So feisty." He kissed her neck, "I like it! Now Demi sweetheart we're going to play a game. I'm going to break Sherlock Holmes my dear. And you're going to help me."

The last thing Demi was aware of was a sharp pain as something was injected into her jugular. Then all she could see was the darkness of unconsciousness.

John had been on his way to Sarah's when they took him. He'd rounded a corner and seen Demi lying on the ground, apparently unconscious.

"Demi!" He ran over to check on her and something shot into the side of his neck. He pulled it out.

"An elephant dart?"

His last thought as he passed out beside his flatmate was something along the lines of 'Who uses elephant darts anymore?' before they'd dragged him and Demi into a van.

They woke up in a room that smelled of chlorine surrounded by deflated inflatables and foam floats. She frowned, half awake. Her chest felt heavy and she couldn't move her arms. She blinked and looked down. She was wearing her worn out winter coat but it seemed bulkier than it had earlier. At all costs last time she had checked her boobs were not squared. It was then that she saw the wire, the red light blinking on and off.

She was wearing a bomb.

"Do you like it? Finest Semtex in all of London I assure you." Came that happy Irish-American accent. Demi's head whipped around to see Jim Moriarty standing in the doorway, playing lazily with a wire and leering down at her. Suddenly it crashed down on her as she saw John, similarly blocky beneath his coat.

They were the fifth pip.

Moriarty cackled insanely at the look on her face.

"Oh yes this is going to be fun! I must say your little speech was inspiring, about how Sherlock never cared...it's time to test that theory sweetheart."

She narrowed her eyes and tugged at the handcuffs attaching her to a pipe. John opened his eyes at the clamour she created.

"Ah Doctor Watson, a pleasure." Greeted Moriarty. He walked over and clipped some more wires onto their jackets, pressing some sort of device into their ears. Demi struggled and tried to kick him but he pinned her down, smirking.

"Very feisty. I can see why he likes you..."

She spat at him and he stepped back, wiping his face neatly before slapping her. John cried out and he grinned slyly.

"Don't even think about it sweetheart. I'd hate to have to kill you before we have our fun. So here is what you're going to do: I say something into your earpiece, you say it to Sherlock. You say anything different and he gets a bullet to the brain."

There was a sound as a door opened and Sherlock called something out.

"Ah, here he is now. Right on time. Johnny boy first..."

He undid their cuffs and pushed John out into the main pool area.

"Evening." Said John as Moriarty spoke into his earpiece.

"John...what?" Said Sherlock, his eyes widening. He couldn't be Moriarty, he just couldn't...

"Bet you never saw this coming, did you Sherlock?" Said Demi, mimicking Moriarty's words as she was told to step out of her hiding place. At this Sherlock's face transformed completely. Disbelief, anger, fear...because for all he knew Demi could be the killer. She had studied their ways for years, she knew how to point the finger elsewhere...she could have been luring him in from the start. But when he saw her face he knew she wasn't the person he was after. She was shaking with barely concealed fear, her blue eyes were wide and brimming with unshed tears and her scarlet lips trembled as she bit down on them, trying to stop herself screaming at him to run as they were both told to open their coats and show Sherlock the explosives. Realisation dawned on his marble-like countenance.

"What would you like me to make them say next?" Said John.

"Gottle o'gear, Gottle o'gear,Gottle o'gear..." Said Demi as Moriarty spoke into her ear.

"Stop it! Just stop, leave them alone..." Said Sherlock. Looking unsure for the first time since Demi and John had met him.

"I can't do that Sherlock, this is too much fun." Said John hollowly. "I stopped little Carl's heart...I can stop Demitria's too Sherlock. Make you watch her die... It's your choice Mr. Holmes, which one do I kill first?"

Demi swallowed a sob as she was made to speak. "It's your fault, if I had never met you..." She stopped and a single tear escaped her eye before Moriarty told her to keep talking, repeating his words, "I wouldn't be here. Neither of us would be. I hate you Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock crumpled despite the fact that her eyes were begging with him not to believe what she was saying.

"Hi!" Trilled Morarty happily as he stepped out of his hiding place. "Jim Moriarty!" He gasped theatrically "Jim? Jim from IT? Was I honestly that forgettable? Then again that was rather the point, even Demi here didn't notice! Is that an Army Browning L901 in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" He asked. Sherlock withdrew a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Moriarty.

"Both."

Demi let out a semi-hysterical giggle and Sherlock looked over.

"Demitria?"

"Go on Demi, John, you can talk now. Tell the nice man how you're feeling."

"I'm fine..." Lied John. Demi just sobbed.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh how adorable!" Squealed Moriarty. "They must make such nice pets!"

Sherlock reached into his pocket.

"I have the plans." Sherlock held out a memory stick. Moriarty gasped and took them.

"The missile plans...boring!" He threw them into the pool. "I could have gotten them anywhere!"

Demi felt like punching the guy. Did he not know how much trouble they'd been through to get those plans?

"Did you like my work? I did it all for you...you see I'm a specialist too. I've given you a glimpse...just a teensy glance, of what I have going on out there in the big bad world Sherlock, so what do you think?" Asked Moriarty, eyes locked on Sherlock.

"A consulting criminal...that's brilliant." Murmured Sherlock in a semi-awed, semi-loathing tone.

"Isn't it? So did you like my game?"

"People have died..."

"That's what people DO!" Roared Moriarty above the noises of the pool, looking so frightening that Demi recoiled. "Aww Demitria sweetheart have I scared you? Here, let me kiss it better..."

He grabbed the lapels of her coat and pulled her closer, kissing her violently. Sherlock cocked the gun in his hand as Demi tried to shove Moriarty away. The villain himself smirked.

"Have I touched a nerve?" He asked jokingly, stroking Demi's face and cackling as she shrank away, a look of disgust on her features.

"Let. Them. Go!" Shouted Sherlock, face livid.

"Well I'd love to but the flirting is over Sherlock! Daddy's had enough now!" His voice was high and mocking. John looked over at Demi and nodded towards Moriarty's back. She nodded and they both launched themselves at him.

"Sherlock run!" Shouted John, they paused as the red sniper dots appeared on Sherlock's head, glinting off his unruly hair.

"I'm afraid you two have rather shown your hand there." Chuckled Moriarty as they let go and stepped back.

"Why are you doing this?" Asked Sherlock, gun still raised.

"Because it was fun for a while, playing games. Now you're in my way! So I've decided that I'm going to destroy you Sherlock Holmes, I am going to rip the heart out of you."

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." Said Sherlock flatly. Moriarty giggled, eyes drifting over to John and Demi.

"But we all know that's not quite true is it? For example if I was to tell my men to pull the trigger, if you had to hear Demi here screaming as she was blown apart...wouldn't that break your heart?"

Sherlock wanted to go over to Demitria, to stroke her hair and tell her not to cry like that, because he didn't like it when she cried. He remembered when he had told her that heroes didn't exist, while at the same time wishing that they did, wishing that he could be her hero.

He would be Demitria's hero if it killed him.

"And what if I was to shoot you right now?" He asked, pointing his gun at Moriarty's eyes.

"Well you could cherish the look of surprise on my face..." He mocked him, pulling a shocked face. "Then again you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long would you?"

The red dots appeared in force on John and Demi.

"Well it's been fun. Ciao Sherlock Holmes..." Said Moriarty as he began to back away.

"Catch...you...later." Said Sherlock coldly.

"No you won't!" Came the squealy reply. The red dots disappeared as a door slammed and Sherlock ran over to check if he had actually gone. He ran back in just as demi and John sagged, leaning against the changing cubicles.

"Christ..." Muttered John. Sherlock walked over as John ripped off his coat and began to undo the clips on his Semtex jacket. Demi's fingers were numb as she tried to undo them. Sherlock ran over and pulled her coat off, ripping the Semtex from her body.

"Demitria you're okay, you're all right, I'm here..."

She broke down sobbing, clutching at him after he threw the bomb jackets away.

"I'm glad no one saw that," She joked, voice wavering. "You pulling my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool...people would talk."

"It's all they ever do." Replied Sherlock as she pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Oh Sherlock I'm sorry I shouted at you! I didn't mean it I swear I was just so angry and I really didn't sleep with Mycroft I promise!" She reached up to stroke his cheek.

"I'd be okay with it you know..." He lied, "If you wanted to be with him..."

"Well I don't." She said surely. She had made up her mind.

"Why not?" He murmured.

"Because he's not you."

She threw caution to the wind and pulled him down to her, kissing him fiercely. She tried to convey how she felt, grateful, relieved... She was sure that Sherlock would pull away but if anything he pulled her closer, hands tangled in her long black hair as he finally realised what the constriction in his chest had been when Mycroft had kissed her.

He was in love with Demitria Blake.

"Guys I am still here you know." Joked John weakly. They leapt apart, Sherlock's hand finding hers, pulling her closer as she shivered in the cold of the pool.

"Sorry John." Said Demi meekly. Suddenly the door slammed and Moriarty walked in, the sniper dots re appearing.

"Sorry but I'm SO Changeable! It's a weakness in me...though to be fair it is my only weakness! You know too much, cliché but true. I can't let you live."

Sherlock raised his gun again, pointing it at Moriarty. At the unimpressed look on his face Sherlock lowered the gun to the Semtex vests between them and him. Moriarty's face betrayed a glimmer of his fear. Demi and John knew what he was doing. Sherlock just hoped that he deserved the trust in their eyes.

It was time to decide.

**CUE THE BIG DRAMATIC CLIFFIE! KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED FOR SEASON TWO!**


	11. New story!

Hey guys!

The wait is over! The first series two story has officially been posted! Sorry about the wait folks :P

Hugs!

Scribbler and her editor :P


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